


5 Times Peter Parker Stole The Hearts Of The MCU

by hannahandtazzy



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor: Ragnarok - Fandom
Genre: 5+1 Things, Character Death, Christmas Fluff, Gen, If you want a Loki & Peter friendship, Minor Injuries, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Soft Peter, Tony Stark Has A Heart, also i don't own any of the characters but you already know that, christ i should be revising, hopefully I won't fail this fic, like my exams, non canon infinity war compliant, oof, uh here you go buddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-02-13 22:51:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12994239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahandtazzy/pseuds/hannahandtazzy
Summary: ...and one time he broke them.





	1. An unexpected encounter

**Author's Note:**

> hey there! this is my first 5+1 fic, so constructive criticism and lil' ideas are really, really appreciated! And I hope this doesn't flop too badly, I'll try my best! And hope the weather's kind to you, because it's totally snowing here in Britain, which is cool (unless you're sick, like me aha). Oh, and the other chapters are gonna be longer, hopefully, Sorry that this one'e so short ! Anyway, thanks guys!<3

An unexpected encounter

It was Peter Parker who transformed the compound – not the new decorating, or location. He was an asset to the place, a small change in atmosphere.

Tony never considered having kids, _more stress right_? Except Peter Parker was in fact a _kid_ , and he constantly visited the billionaire, heck, it was his second home. And he certainly offered enough _stress_ to give the poor man an ulcer.

But his love for the teenager never faltered, despite it all. Christmas was around the corner, and spending it with the people you love really does make it special. Except Christmas didn’t only involve loved ones, it involved the team. And the two things were both equally the same but completely different.

_Because since when did Loki join the party?_

Thor, Bruce and Loki entered the compound with a cautiousness that concluded they either nearly died, or was nervous of what they found.

It was probably both.

But what they simply discovered was a small suited boy casually writing an essay on the second floor couch, snuggled in a- _was that a reindeer themed blanket_?

The boy’s eyes slowly wandered from Bruce to Thor, and widened at the third man.

“Mister Stark?” Peter squeaked, almost dropping his mug onto the expensive laptop.

Tony appeared from the kitchen, groggily holding a cup of coffee with bed hair that deserved an _award._ “Yeah, kiddo–” Tony mumbled, voice thick with sleep. His focus then asserted to the three men near the elevator, and he stumbled forward, realisation a harsh _thwack t_ o the face.

“Jesus Christ- Bruce? _Thor?”_ The man, clearly startled practically launched himself towards the two. Loki meanwhile stood awkwardly a few paces back _,_ sighing. He glanced at the bare walls around him tediously. The man was never greeted or shown any form of welcome, and trying to overthrow the planet only happened _once_ , people! But Peter on the other hand, observed the once terroriser with wide eyes, mouth agape.

Loki noticed the dumbfounded teen and locked eyes, sending Peter’s big brown orbs urgently meeting his laptop, as if he _totally_ wasn’t goggling at the man. A slight smirk spread across the Asgardian’s face, if only for a second.

“What? Are you afraid?” The man teased; brows rose at the sight of the teen shuffle uncomfortably under his blanket.

“N-No!” Peter quickly answered, shaking his head.

Tony stepped forward, almost protectively, glancing up at the taller man. His movements were swift and wary, only concern being Peter. “I don’t know what the _hell_ you’re doing here, but if you so much as lay _a finger_ on that kid I’ll—”

Thor quickly interrupted, hand separating the both. Loki smugly grinned at the smaller man, enjoying the sight of Tony so defensive. It was rather entertaining.

“I can assure you, man of iron. My brother shan’t cause any harm, he’s practically a changed man!” Thor’s voice boomed, affectionately squeezing Loki’s shoulders. “We have greater matters to discuss, my friend. Such as a purple space being that seems to take interest in the great Midgard!” The man continued, guiding Tony (who was still glaring daggers at the God) and Bruce into the next room, leaving Loki, once again, left like chopped liver.

“It appears we both are rather unneeded,” The pale man stated to the boy, prodding closer for better inspection. “You aren’t Tony's son, correct?” He questioned, leaving the boy stunned and falling deeper into the couch. The hairs on his arms were prominent and unsettled, though his spine remained calm; signalling he was safe.

“No, I’m not.” Peter finally breathes, tilting his head. Now it’s _his_ turn to analyse. “I thought you were bad, you don’t pose any danger. Why?” The spider seemed to find his feet suddenly, because now eagerness rather than terror was radiating from the kid- which earned a puzzled expression from the man.

“We pick and choose our moments. Aren’t you too young to be involved in world saving and such?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

_Ouch._

“Touché, I can see why Tony likes you.” Loki nods, satisfied; finding a seat a few cushions away from Peter – squinting at Thor through the doorway, in which his brother goofily smiled.

The God of Mischief hated his brother. He _loathed_ him completely, without a doubt.

Peter coughed, snatching back the God’s attention. “You and Thor seem close now, Mister- erm, Loki.” Watching him intently, he noticed the man’s expression sour at the comment. “It’s true! And I’m glad, from what I’ve heard, you used to be pretty inseparable.” His voice was warm and he held a soft smile, as if he encountered their past fondness himself.

“Yes, well, things change, hm?” Loki cleared his throat, noticing that Peter had shuffled closer, the boy sharing a giddy grin, drunk on curiosity.

“People change, too.” The kid muttered, “I really think it’s cool that you’re not evil anymore. You totally scared my family, dude. We thought you were gonna kill us all, but I’m glad that didn’t happen.”

“Yes, well I’m debating whether I made a mistake, now that I’ve met you.” Loki remarked with a smirk, enjoying the small talk between them. It was different, he had never encountered a human so witty yet companionable before. It was nice, albeit he would never admit that.

 

And after a long conversation about Hela, Flash Thomson, and why taking advice from Loki (which involved grabbing Flash’s neck and snapping it like a twig) wasn’t the best idea,  it was night time; Or movie night to be exact. He always enjoyed spending his nights with Tony, watching movies like the world wasn’t a mess. But tonight, Tony seemed tense – on edge. His eyes were sharp and alert, worried, even.

“Mister Stark?” Peter murmured to the man, voice wavering slightly.

Tony hummed in response, eyes non-blinking and deep in thought.

Peter gulped, pursing his lips, thinking of the right words to say. After all, Thor, Loki and Bruce were present.  “I- You can talk to me, alright?”

The air seemed to be sucked out of the room, and everyone’s attention formed around the two. Loki gritted his teeth, because Tony _was_ in fact worrying for the _exact_ opposite reason.

 _He couldn’t talk to Peter_. Not about what was about to happen, not that a being far stronger than anyone else before was gonna wreak havoc.  Not that they may not return the same people they were, or people at all.

However, Tony managed a small smile and chuckled a light-hearted “Thanks, kid.” despite his obvious nerves. What can you do? Tony stark – the professional emotion hider, and thank Odin that Peter could see right through his lies.

His boy didn’t press the subject, though, and tried to draw his attention back to Star Wars – The Empire Strikes Back. Because it was his turn to choose, though Tony almost _always_ let him choose.

 

When two Star Wars films finished, and one exhausted Thor was asleep on the Love Seat, it was time to return to bed. This basically translated to; Think, drink and re-think time for Tony.

But with everyone but Thor awake, the compound was oddly alive.

Peter wandered the compound, finally deciding to settle on the second floor couch he became strangely fond of. His hands searched for the remote, but with no luck, he officially gave up.

Thor’s snoring was practically entertainment, anyway.

“Y’know, Thor? I honestly don’t think that your brother’s all that bad. He seems nice, under all the layers of his unpredictability.” Peter began, pretending that Thor was in fact listening, because talking always calmed him, which was odd. Even being the friendly neighborhood spider-man, his talkativeness was familiar and made fighting the robbers, killers, and whatever roamed the streets bearable. Almost like a distraction.

The boy yawned with tired eyes after his late night conversation, stretching into the Christmas blanket from earlier. “G’night, God of Thunder. Yours truly shall sleep now, hopefully dreaming of those pizza rolls from downtown.” He sleepily mumbled, dozing off; with his mask lying beside him.

 

The morning was far kinder this time, without any signs of unexpected space God’s, or scientists, it was just pancakes with strawberries, and a bag full of pizza rolls from an anonymous sender. (Which may or may not have been brought by the new God of bad advice?)

But oblivious, Peter engulfed every single one without so much as a second thought.


	2. Giving it all you've got

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Tony's given the responsibility of Christmas shopping, Peter is left with Loki and some familiar faces. Great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! So sorry this took longer than expected, I'll try and update every week! It's now Christmas break, which means either frequent updates or slightly longer periods of time before the next chapters. I'm so sorry guys! Revision and all.. Anyway, I couldn't believe the reaction to my last one, and every comment I read brought a smile to my face! Totally made me scream internally with happiness. I love you all, seriously. I hope this doesn't flop too badly, because it's currently 12:32am, and I'm super tired. I'm weak. But again, thank you all! <3

Giving it all you’ve got.

Tony decided enough was enough, and leaving Christmas shopping until last minute probably wasn’t the most stressful thing on his list, but it sure was in the top five. With Pepper on his case constantly about what he should buy Peter, and how much he’d love the new console - _what was it called? The Nintendo Switch?_ It made him sound so much like a dad _. Not that he minded, of course_. He was willing to buy the kid the world and more, hell, he deserved it. But with Steve and his metal armed friend scheduled to re-appear at any moment, Super Mario Odyssey was the last of his worries. But it _was_ pretty important.

With Loki keeping Peter occupied, Tony headed out to buy a few gifts for the kid and whoever the hell lived in the compound at the moment. Super humans and God’s seemed to keep multiplying, and Tony was bringing them in like bloody stray cats.

 

“What the hell are you doing now?” Loki frowned, shuffling to the edge of the sofa curiously; watching as the boy gently placed brightly coloured paper upon the floor.

“Presents.” Peter replied dryly, ripping the tape with his teeth, inspecting where to place it. This gift was for Thor, and to Loki’s amusement, it was what appeared to be a small self-made hammer – clearly created in some woodwork class.

The man’s expression softened slightly as his gaze fell to the scattered gifts – and he took a wild guess that the Hunger Games collection was for Clint.

Through the silence, Peter’s voice perked up, a hint of laughter in his voice. “Don’t worry, I didn’t forget you. I’ve already wrapped it.”

Loki’s brows furrowed, shaking his head at the boy who looked back at him with a bright grin, “You’re disgustingly sweet; you know that, don’t you?”

 

The elevator suddenly _pinged_ , making both Loki and Peter jump- a women with short, auburn hair strolled in, holding a bag of delicious smelling food, which was either McDonald’s or Burger King. Both in which Peter _loved._

The small hero almost forgot about Nat’s unwrapped present, so he quickly kicked it to Loki, who knowingly shuffled it under the sofa with a soft tap of his foot.

The man rolled his eyes fondly as he watched Peter rush to the women, a slight bounce in his step. Nat ruffled the kid’s hair, a familiar greeting she seemed to have with the spider; which was odd, because she rarely showed her soft side, never-mind with a colleague. If you could call Peter one, that is.

“How’s my other spider doing?” She handed him a box of McNuggets, which he exhaled lovingly, throwing a quiet “Thank you so much,” as he sat back on the floor, already scoffing down four pieces of chicken in the process. He paused for a minute, noticing both Nat and Loki staring at him in disbelief – shyly, he offers the left over nuggets.

“That’s half chewed.” Loki deadpanned, glancing into the mostly eaten box of chicken.

The boy’s gaze shot down at the box, _“Oh._ God, I’m so sorry _. That’s uh- that’s gross. Sorry.”_ With wide eyes and reddened cheeks, his shoulders sank with relief as Natasha’s phone bleeps, excusing him from his embarrassment.

Nat answers it quickly, brows furrowing slightly at the muffled voice who spoke gently – Peter recognised it instantly.

_Steve Rogers._

“No, he’s not here.” Natasha mumbled, her eyes focussed upon the floor. It wasn’t that Peter _chose_ to eavesdrop; it was natural to him with his enhanced hearing.  And it was Captain _freaking_ America on the phone – practically his idol, so what can you expect?  “You can’t just walk in; you’d give Tony a heart attack.” The woman hisses into the phone, in which Steve replied carefully;

 “I can’t exactly just wait outside, Nat.”

Natasha practically choked on her words, clearly not expecting Steve to arrive so _suddenly._ This wasn’t good. This _really_ wasn’t good. And after a few moments of deafening silence, she sighs painfully, mumbling under her breath about messaging her first.

As the assassin reluctantly stranded from the group and back into the elevator, Peter threw himself to the window, abandoning his nuggets and gasping at two men in hoodies below. “You don’t understand; I stole his shield the last time we met! I hope he’s still not pissed about that- he wouldn’t be, right? What about the Winter Soldier? Oh god. I don’t think he likes me.” The teen rambled, face pressed hard against the glass.  The God observed nonchalantly, tickled by the boy’s clear excitement. He rolled his eyes, absent-mindedly listening.

His smile then turned to a smirk, as he encountered the memory of the first time he met the famous ‘Captain America’. “Yes, well, I did throw him to the floor and demand him to kneel, so I’m sure the grudge against you isn’t quite as bad as the one against me, hm?”

Peter giggled at that, he remembered watching that exact clip on the news at least twenty times. “Yeah, I was real small at the time, but I saw it happen live. It was pretty entertaining, though. But don’t be offended that I cheered Cap on instead.”

Loki’s eyes formed a squint, “I’m extremely hurt by that, to say the least.”

“Can you accept my left over nuggets as a form of apology?”

Before Loki could reply, Thor’s large, welcoming voice punctuated their conversation. And that’s when both Spider and God realised that Steve and Bucky had arrived. Peter grabbed his mask and cautiously made his way to the elevator, comically nervous. After all, revealing his identity wasn’t something he was quite comfortable in doing, at least not yet. He wanted to be seen as the Spider-man who fought strongly alongside Tony, not some Midtown school of science student who accompanied such a baby face; he could pass as a twelve year old. (Though Loki knew his secret, he didn’t reveal it in confidence), so his reason remained. And thank Odin Loki hadn’t leaked it, because after minutes of begging, pinky promises and puppy eyes for days, Loki couldn’t exactly betray the kid. He wasn’t Thor, after all.

 As Peter gestured Loki to follow, he rehearsed his greeting over and over in hope to demolish any kind of awkwardness between Spider-man and Captain America, because having your entire childhood hero hate you isn’t particularly bucket list worthy. He needed to do this right.

So, after a few seconds of Loki awkwardly calming the boy’s nerves, and nodding with encouragement, the elevator came to a stop, in which the small spider (fake) confidently trudged his way towards the now war criminal, or two. With hesitant steps, his bones stiffened as Thor’s muscly arms folded around him in a tight embrace.

“Captain, this is our good friend Spider-man. He means no harm, I can assure.” Thor patted the kid’s shoulder affectionately.

Peter froze – the words he practiced were out of the window at this point, apparently because his feet and mouth were unmoving. He just stared idly at the metal armed man and Steve, until he finally masked the courage to extend a shaking hand to the two.

“I- I’m sorry for stealing your shield, Cap..Captain, Sir.” Peter gulped, flinching slightly as Steve reached out with a warm smile, shaking the boy’s hand.

“Oh, I remember you. You’re the one who gave my team a heart attack, huh?” The blonde man’s mouth lifted at the corners, glancing back to Bucky who observed, amused.

“Yeah, the strange one in spandex, you threw me to the ground and put that weird ass webbing on my arm, thanks for that, by the way. That was gross.” Bucky perked up, stepping forward. Peter stood his ground this time; chuckling nervously at the man’s comment.

“Yeah, I’m _so_ sorry. Uh, I just really wanted to impress Mister Stark. I know that you’ve all kind of, um, fallen out. But he’s really great.” Peter coughed, eyes brightening at the mention of his mentor. He couldn’t exactly start ranting about how he helped him, though, and how he’s almost like a-

 _No_. He couldn’t point that out; Even though he _really_ damn wanted to.

The men turned to Loki, now, and Cap’s soft expression was replaced by something close to distaste, abruptly stepping forward, similar to Tony’s reaction; except this time through anger rather than protection.

“What the hell is he doing here, Nat?” Steve’s tone was low and commanding, his tensed jaw and fixed stare almost dangerous. Peter’s lenses widened at Loki, in which he smirked to the blue suited man.

“It seems as if Tony was more welcoming of a murdering alien than of a backstabbing – or should I say _chest_ stabbing? Friend,” The god spat, expression sharply changing as Peter yanked him back before Cap could retaliate. The kid’s breath hitched at the sudden act of defence, watching as Steve’s fist returned to his side, though his stance remained rigid and prepared.

“All so _very_ entertaining, watching how you humans react.” Loki continued; noticing Peter’s faltering shoulders and the subtle shake of his head in attempt to make the man stop. Surprisingly, his dark smile fell and he backed away from the fight, tension thick and unwavering between the group - Cap’s steady glare falling as Bucky placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

“We came here for a reason, Steve.” The soldier reminded, breaking the silence.

Peter tilted his head confused, watching as Thor and Nat nodded in agreement. “Are you guys all here for the Holidays? Because if that’s the case, I didn’t get you and Cap presents, sorry...” Peter scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “I didn’t know you were coming, but I got you cards just in case, if that means anyth-“

“Peter,” Loki softy interrupted, smiling sadly to the puzzled boy. Steve was taking aback by the sudden change in tone from Loki, and equally by the kid’s obliviousness.

And with caution, Steve chose his words, because it was clear the kid was uninformed, and he needed to approach both calmly and directly. He knew it was gonna be hard to take in, especially by someone new to the entire ‘world saving’ aspect on a greater level. “Peter, is it?” Steve gently asked, brows rose, awaiting an answer.

Peter slowly nodded, nervousness clawing to his skin unexpectedly.

“You’re a bright kid, we know that. Pretty tough too,” Steve began, glancing to Nat who shifted her gaze towards the floor. “And we _need_ pretty tough people. Because there’s a fight far bigger than anything we’ve ever faced, which means-“

Peter interjected immediately, understanding the proposal. “Okay,” He breathed, voice wavering slightly, he sounded so young, and yet he was getting dragged into something so terrifying, even to the most undaunted. Peter repeated the phrase again; this time with certainty, and a bravery both him and the others needed. “Okay.”

Cap nodded, grateful for the kid’s reaction. He wasn’t sure how to manage the situation if Peter had started to freak out, so his relief was hidden but definite.

Within the silence, Bucky managed a small smile to the boy, changing the uneasy mood. “You said something about presents?”

 

 

 

Peter rushed to the second floor, stumbling slightly as his suited feet slid, to only be steadied by Natasha’s outstretched arms that quickly grabbed him, her reflexes amazingly fast. “Thanks, Miss Romanoff, jeez, you’re practically my mother,” Peter laughed, unaware of how heavy that comment meant to her – and she exchanged a sincere smile, pushing him playfully towards the presents.

As the group of heroes sat crossed legged on the floor, they watched Peter as he passed the gifts around with excitement, who turned to Bucky and Steve solemnly, “I’ve wrapped everyone’s other than Tony’s, Clint’s and- I didn’t get you any, I’m sorry. I’ll get some before Christmas, okay? That’s a promise, because being left out sucks.” He sighed, nonetheless handing each individual a messily wrapped goodie. Hey, he tried.

As Thor thanked him graciously, Loki’s grin was immediate as he inspected the green paper, assuming _that_ was why he asked him what his favourite colour was a few days ago. “Disgustingly sweet,” He muttered to himself, tearing the paper.

Both Steve and Bucky recognised the clear affection the team held for the kid, and they all understood the weight of protecting him, because he was certainly something special both the team and the world needed but didn’t deserve. And that was okay, because _he_ was going to be okay.

_And they would damn make sure of that._

 

 

 

 


	3. Please Never Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor decides to take Peter for a drink. Or a few.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Hope you all had a lovely Christmas if you celebrate! Why do I always post late at night? I'm once again, totally shattered. And sick. yay!..  
> Thank you all for the comments, kudos and bookmarks, I'll try my best to update often, though I've been pretty busy. Again, thank you so much, I hope this one's alright. Drunk Peter? Loki actually giving a shit? Tony Stark being a Dad™? Sure. Anyway, love ya' guys! <3

Please Never Change.

 

Home of the famous town square, alien invasions and a certain hero in red spandex, New York City had fallen; and this time not by space beings, or robots, but simply by snow.

And Peter was _living_ for it.

“Mister Stark!” Peter yelled from his newly decorated bedroom, (Star Wars themed, of course), ecstatic by the amount of downfall; the city was a blanket of white. “No freakin’ way! Mister Stark!” Peter repeated, whizzing through the white corridor and into the front room, where the avengers were already awake and startled by the sudden burst of energy that pranced around the room, almost sending Bruce stumbling back, tea in hand.

“Watch it, Peter,” Bruce light heartedly scolded, holding the spilt cup to his chest.

“We gotta go, like, right now.” Peter exclaimed, “Oh, sorry Bruce!” The boy realised, backtracking – hands out stretched in surrender.

Peter was still in his Captain America pyjamas, which he was constantly embarrassed about whenever Steve caught eye of them– and Tony called it a _‘spit in the face’_ , but it was limited edition. No matter whose side he was on, those pyjamas were too special _not_ to wear. He became more comfortable around the group of (mostly) heroes; even presenting his bed hair didn’t faze him by now, though it did seem to agitate Loki. And after The God called him a tramp, Peter backlashed his comment with ‘ _at least I don’t wash mine in a chip pan’,_ and that was when Peter ultimately knew not to piss of a God or to call their hair greasy, that’s for sure.

As Peter was already slipping on his unkempt shoes, Tony guzzled his coffee; possibly the third this morning. His eyes were tired and sleep deprived, but he continued to nonetheless scoff at the kid’s excitement. “You’re leaving the compound in that? Is your choice of death _humiliation_ or _hyperthermia_?”

Steve smirked at this – he knew this was typical concerned Tony, just hiding his care with jokes. “At least put a coat on, Pete, you’ll freeze to death. And take it from me, you really don’t want that.” Steve nodded, crossing his legs comfortably upon the sofa. Cap and Tony had (mostly) resolved the tension between them, and their classic banta thankfully returned. Bucky, however, took slightly longer for the billionaire to warm to, but after understanding the man’s situation at the time of 1991, their awkwardness became more bearable.

Suddenly, Peter broke away from his daze, turning to Loki who was already rolling his eyes, even _before_ the boy said anything.

 “Aren’t you like part Frost Giant? That means you’re like, immune to the cold, right?” Peter tilted his head, unaware of Thor who almost choked on his beer. It was a subject that rarely came up – being that Loki was so sensitive about it. But the black haired man simply shrugged, turning the page of his book nonchalantly.

“We’re on the brink of imminent danger; I see no point in wasting our possibly limited time on snow, Peter.” Loki blankly replied, ignoring the kid’s sigh of disappointment.

“Fine, I’ll just call Ned-“

Tony interrupted immediately, reluctant to invite yet _another_ fifteen year old kid to the compound – never-mind one who wasn’t familiar with the heroes, or the guy who almost tarnished Earth.

“You do that, and you’ll give the kid an aneurism,” Tony bit back, shutting down Peter’s idea completely. “How about you just – I don’t know, don’t kids your age have homework?”

“’Done it.” Peter interjected quickly, but Tony picked up his suggestions just as swift.

“Of _course_ you have. How about watching TV like a normal person, huh?” The man sighed exasperatedly, index finger and thumb rubbing the bridge of his nose. He had so much work to do, some involving writing his will. This was already stressful enough, even without babysitting some bubbly teenager.

“Cap’s watching Call the Midwife, can’t interrupt his session.” Peter smirked, noticing as Steve’s eyes peeled from the screen, face puzzled.

“Hm?”

 

After moments of bickering between Tony and his kid, and a changing of outfit for Peter, Thor decided to break the arguments and voice his idea of taking the spider to his favourite place in the City. Tony warily complied; solely glad to get the kid out of the compound while he was writing his testament.

“Yes, we’ll be back before seven, Stark! My brother shall accompany our travels, right, Loki?” Thor smiled, twitching his head to the side in encouragement, “My treat, brother.”

 

The men loosely followed Peter as he softly padded across the slushy ground – his eyes widening in awe at the sheer difference in the city; the stillness odd but enjoyable. After being Spider-man, the hero saw the world mostly from above, and witnessed the chaos among it, but now, its peace was something that needed to be endured.

 “Where are we actually going, brother?” Loki questioned, hands plopped into his suite pockets. He had always dressed smartly when exiting the compound, whereas Peter and Thor focussed more upon comfort – one thing they surely had in common.

Thor grinned, feet slicing into the snow, “I wanted to take Peter to a place that shall make him a man! Since we’ll be travelling in space and battling for Midgard and such.”

Loki paused for a moment, analysing Thor’s words; “Tell me you’re not taking him drinking, Thor. You dare, and Stark will have you six feet under,” Loki hissed, hand yanking the man harshly back. “He’s fifteen in human years, merely a toddler.”

Thor’s brows rose at this – Loki possibly caring for someone other than himself? The world really _was_ ending. “Oh, please, brother. It’ll do Peter all the good, I’m certain.” Thor chuckled lightly, yelling to Peter to turn left and into the seemingly crummy building.

 _Not at_ all _dodgy_ , Loki thought to himself, trailing closer to the boy.

“Hey, is this a bar?” Peter questioned, fingers hesitantly pushing the door. “I’m fifteen, remember? I’m not old enough to drink-“

Thor cackled, placing a hand on the kid’s back and nudging him into the smoke scented room. It wasn’t exactly _child friendly_ to say the least – all sorts of smells and noises smacked his already heightened senses, and he immediately fell stiff. All eyes shot to them, and Loki uncomfortably stepped forward besides Peter. A man; slim, shabby and wearing bold glasses greeted the taller Asgardian with a nod.

“Is _this_ where you’ve been wandering off to in the day?” Loki growled to Thor, shuffling awkwardly behind the blonde man. Peter timidly followed, offering nervous but sure smiles to those who made eye contact; though he was granted nothing but dirty looks and confusion in return.

The bar-man squinted through his thick framed glasses at Peter, tilting his head, “Hey, Thor, I’m not gonna argue with you, but he’s like, all of five years old.” He shrugged, already pouring a drink for the God.

Peter crossed his arms, unintentionally drawing closer to Loki who monitored everybody’s movement, as if they were threats ready to pounce. The black haired man gritted his teeth, gaze forming around a fight that broke out near the back.

And before Loki could draw Peter away from the scummy place, Thor had already passed him a large beer, patting him on the back like a proud father. “If you can drink that all in one, you’re surely worthy, small Spider,” And Peter complied, (unsurprisingly), gulping the strong liquid bit by bit...

_And it was gone. He’s drank it all in one._

The people now surrounding the small group cheered, except Loki, whose widened eyes viciously glared at Thor. “I turn my back for _one_ second-“ The pale man snarled, being immediately interrupted.

“-Another!” Thor raised his fist to the air, in which Peter mimicked in shaking triumph. Because _, hell,_ he was with Thor; but he was surely to regret that.

 

After certainly more than what any normal, functioning human could consume – Peter was falling slack against the chair, body finally giving in.

Except he wasn’t sleeping, but giggling mindlessly at nothing, which was possibly more alarming.

“Peter,” Loki glanced down at the boy who was grinning stupidly up at him – big brown eyes focussing and unfocussing on the man’s features. “Peter, we’re leaving.” Loki growled, grabbing the hero by the arm, in which the boy’s wobbling feet almost collapsed. “I am _not_ carrying you. You didn’t _have_ to try and keep up with a God, mortal, so you suffer the consequences.” The God of mischief spat, dragging the boy from the manic of the pub – leaving Thor to handle the payments himself.

Peter’s face fell, pushing Loki away slightly, and his hazy eyes portrayed hurt – “You’ve never called me _mortal_ before,” He began, gaze dropping to meet the floor.

“Just a reminder that you _aren’t_ in fact immortal and you’ll kill yourself if you drink anymore,” Loki flatly replied, a little thrown by the kid’s immediate sober tone.

“Don’t do that again, my name’s _Peter_.” The boy muttered, legs trembling as his stomach lurched, waves of heat meeting his face.

Loki glanced back, noticing the change in the kid’s expression – and he reluctantly paced forward, a pang of guilt slicing his chest like a small papercut. But he told Peter he _wouldn’t_ carry him. Not under any circumstance.

Loki always was a liar _._

  Grumbling under his breath, the God heaved the boy onto his back with ease as Peter chuckled tipsily, the sound sweet and oddly comforting.

“You _dare_ mention this to anyone and I’ll slice your neck, Spider.” Loki snapped, though his threat was tainted by something notably close to a giggle.

Peter joined in, dismissing his blackmail completely, voice gentle but sure. “ _yeah, right_ ,” He muttered, his fluffy hair falling limp onto the man’s neck, eyes sinking shut.

 

It was all fun and games, carrying the human all the way to the compound, until the Avengers turned their heads to the elevator to see the world’s renowned villain with a kid slouched on his shoulder, barely standing up.

“He’s not dying,” Loki flatly remarked, helping the kid onto the sofa with caution. “Thor decided to take him for a drink – or ten. Probably more,” He shrugged casually, noticing Tony’s eyes burn red.

May was gonna kill him. Kill him _dead_ , in fact. Tony had been focussing so much on paperwork and a group of people called – _The guardians of the galaxy?_ Some stupid cult of space people to help, that he didn’t consider Thor’s ‘favourite place’. Of _course_ it was a bar. The man drank like a sailor, yet it seemed to have no effect on him whatsoever; _Lucky guy._

“Pete, kiddo, time to get up,” Tony ruffled the kid’s hair, watching as Spidey groggily pried himself from the sofa. _Why did everything resolve around this goddamn second floor couch?_

“Mister Stark?” Peter mumbled, hands clawing at his eyes tiredly. He looked rough. Vision appeared from the next room, holding a bucket and a bottle of water knowingly, and for once Tony’s wasn’t irritated by the man’s use of walking through walls.

“It seems as though Peter is suffering from alcohol poisoning, and ensuring he keeps hydrated and warm is vital,” The red man informed, placing the contents onto the floor. “He is under the legal age of consumption, may I add.”

Tony warily watched as Peter curled in on himself – the kid could never pass for twenty-one, how the hell was he able to drink? Though frankly, not many people would be brave enough to argue with Thor about some kid having a few pints.

 

Without warning, Peter’s eyes burst open, and his body quickly jolted from the seat to grab the bucket, whimpering into the plastic container uselessly. Tony turned his head for a moment, exhaling in disgust, _Trust Peter to end up in such a state._

“If you puke on me, you won’t hear the end of it,” Tony joked, grazing the boy’s back comfortingly, something that he wished someone else would’ve done when his alcohol habits took place.

“Hey, your healing factor will help out pretty soon, alright?” Tony soothed, humming to the kid with the warmth of a father, as he ignored the Avengers stares of disbelief.

_He definitely wasn’t living this down anytime soon._


	4. Mind over Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is struggling to sleep, uh, that's it. Late-night video games and soft spidey?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, so sorry for the delay! This one's a lil' bit shorter than usual, apologies. I had my literature exam, yikes, that was a complete fail. Anyway! This chapter's just soft Petey being Petey, and Loki being super fond of the small human. Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments, I really appreciate them. Like, seriously. You guys make my day. <3

                         Mind over Matter.

 It’s not that Peter found himself sometimes pondering how big the ‘fight’ in space would be; instead, he did it all the time. _Constantly._   Even though he fought to demolish any thoughts of him dying, deep down – the thought of anyone else dying was even worse.

Peter Parker, the kid who managed to make friends with a villain, the little ray of sunshine which revolved around the compound. The same kid, who was barely ready for exams, let alone fighting among Avengers, was now needed to save the world.

And this kid was panicking.

Sometimes he’d stay awake – listening to the city beyond him, or he’d wander the huge building in the dark, struggling to find peace in that bright, little brain of his.

But tonight was different, he sauntered the darkness with hesitance, the feeling of being watched pricked his senses. _You’re insane, Pete. See? Nothing._

He blinked at the blackness, eyes adjusting bit by bit. The outline of the couch, the TV and the table framed his sight, nothing out of the ordinary. With a shaky breath, he prodded past, making his way to the huge windows, swallowing the sensation that nipped at his neck.

Peter focussed on the rushing cars and hectic life below, the scene mindlessly thriving in its safety - or at least for now, and he’d sure try to keep it that way.

_Because this was his home._

Peter exhaled, gnawing at the end of his sleeve. He fixed his eyes on the view of opposite skyscrapers, smudged by fog and night. As his breath calmed, and his pulse began to slow, he squeezed his eyes shut, as if somehow time would miraculously stop.

He pictured Ned, building the new Lego space-craft, annoying Peter with excitement, ‘ _Can I come next time Thor takes you drinking?’_ And May, making her favourite risotto slightly overcooked but pleased nonetheless. With her beautiful warm smile peering at Peter as if he held the stars, oblivious that he’d soon be among them.

He’d miss it. _Hell, he’d’ miss it all_. Miss his college degree; miss his future, hoping that one day, he’d be the man Ben or Tony Stark had grown up to become.

After understanding the weight of this battle, _Thanos_ , they called him, it was the inevitable that some wouldn’t return. And being some damn _kid_ among heroes, it would be a threatening fight to Peter, a fight that no child should endure.

 

The spider placed his forehead upon the glass; a stifled choke melting into the silence, refusing to be heard. _Mister Stark demanded you stay._ _Why are you fighting? To damn prove yourself again? For others to remember you as something other than the poor, parentless wallflower? It’s a joke, Pete-_

Peter snapped out of his daydream, the feeling of being watched pinching his skin like an annoying itch, this time worse– he quickly jabbed at his sore eyes, rubbing away the tears and thoughts of someone nearby. _You’re embarrassing yourself._

“It’s actually normal to cry, it’s what most creatures do to relieve pain or-“ Loki said, matter-of-factly, looming in the darkness like an unnoticed shadow.

Peter jumped, holding back the urge to flounce onto the wall or ceiling. “Don’t…Don’t do that.” He grumbled, secretly thankful that it was him and not some burglar. _Now that’d be fun to deal with at four AM._

Peter coughed his hurt voice into oblivion, now small and defensive. “I wasn’t _crying_ , okay? I just have a cold.” The kid turned his face, the light of the city hitting his cheeks, revealing damp and reddened skin.

Loki exhaled amused, _not upset at all, hm?_ “Yes, of course. And why might you be up and ready at- four-thirty in the morning? You’re never an early riser,” Loki tilted his head, trying to catch Peter’s glance. When the boy finally returned a brutal stare, Loki felt himself tear away for a moment, frozen by the kid’s reaction. His hardened face was somewhat younger than usual, a vulnerability staring Loki right in the face; almost daringly.

 Peter’s eyes drifted to the floor, annoyed by his own fragility.  “I’m _fine_ , Loki. Thanks.” He finally hissed, though the strength of his words was nothing more than a whisper. He pushed past the God, a gentle nudge on the shoulder. _Great, another person to think I’m not strong enough._

Loki watched him leave with narrowed eyes, thrown by the kid’s unusual behaviour. Humans on Midgard always were a mystery to him, but Peter was something so simple to understand, a mere child excited to fight among his idols, naïve and happy. Or so he thought.

“Peter,” Loki muttered, noticing the boy’s shoulders tense at his name. “It’s understandable to be scared,” The man’s tone was almost re-assuring; something that Loki’s speech couldn’t usually fathom.

Peter’s lips curved slightly, aware of the man’s attempt, turning to face him with a smile not deemed happy, rather a form of understanding.

 

“Are you scared?” Peter timidly asked, unaware of the breath he was holding in.

 

Loki raised his brows for a split second, surprised by the boy’s question, shaking his head. _Of course not, it’s child-play, just another puny battle in space, nothing new._

 

“Terrified.”

 

Peter smiled at that, even if the inevitable happened, he knew a God was even feeling the stresses, and that he wasn’t the only one. “We can totally be scared shitless together, then.” The boy whispered, a childish grin beckoning Loki to imitate – in which he did. The kid was bloody contagious.

“It appears so.” Loki nodded, noticing Peter’s face soften at the agreement. “’Scared shitless indeed.”

 

By Five O’clock, Peter had convinced Loki to play a video game with him, yes, at _five AM_. And if you took a shot every time Loki growled in frustration or swore under his breath, liver failure was a certainty.

“Why are you humans so _pathetic_ to spend precious time on _this_ -this _nonsense_?” the man rubbed a hand through his hair, eyes unmoving from the screen. “Is this what normal teenagers do instead of doing something useful? No hunting, or fighting or-“

“Sorry, dude, but this is it.” Peter laughed, side glancing the God who was clearly engrossed in the game, sitting on the edge of his seat. “To be fair, none of my friends leave the house,” Peter commented, shrugging his shoulders.

“That’s awfully sad; I question your species,” Loki remarked, holding the controller so tensely that his veins were prominent– but with a sudden burst of footsteps, he almost threw it at _Steve_ as the avenger entered in confusion.

 _Oh_ _shit_.

 _Of course_ Captain America woke up early for his morning runs, and of _course_ , he had to bump into the apparent God of Mischief and some Spider-kid playing Super Mario Odyssey, (which Tony had bought Peter, naturally).

Steve stood in the doorway with wide, puzzled eyes. “What the hell are you two doing?” he questioned, switching the light on; sending Peter and Loki hissing in unison at the brightness like bats.

“I was planning on teaching him self-defence,” Loki began, watching at Steve’s brows lifted with a smirk. _Yes, very believable, Loki_.  Maybe Peter was affecting his skills, becoming a bad influence on his lying. Or, well, perhaps a _good_ influence.

_Damn that kid._

Steve chuckled; crossing his arms casually, his bright eyes ageless despite lack of sleep. “Learning self-defence in the dark, huh?” His tone was friendly and knowing, and Peter nodded eagerly in response.

“Night patrol and all that, Captain-sir,” the boy smiled, watching as Steve’s gaze scattered from him to the God with suspicion. “Since I need to fight in the dark, right?”

The blonde shook his head with a laugh, bewildered. “ _Right_ …I’ll be going, then, hopefully, Mario will help you greatly on missions, Peter.”

And with that, Steve exited the compound as fast as he entered the living room. Leaving Peter and Loki sat in silence in the burning light of day, sleep deprived.

The God turned to the boy, who now was a kid full of tired eyes and messy hair. “You haven’t slept at all, have you?” Loki asked, not particularly fond of the answer he already knew.

Peter glanced at the floor, his non-existent response virtually confirmation. _Not a blink._

 

 

 

The day had dragged excruciatingly long for Peter – the repeating comments of ‘you look dead,’ and ‘since when did you last shower, kiddo?’ was a broken record to his life, and with supposedly just about every Avenger in the compound asserting their concern, it was evident that he needed sleep; a rest from his trapped worries and panic.

So he tried.

He shrunk into the couch next to Loki, mindlessly watching the way his pale fingers flicked the pages of his book, his voice humming the slightest melody to himself out of habit as he read. So quietly that if not for Peter’s enhanced hearing, it would be barely audible due to the playful arguments between Natasha and Bruce. Peter focussed upon the gentle tune, its song not known or familiar, but soothing nonetheless.

Blinking slowly, after minutes of listening, the kid’s brain faded hazily in and out of sleep. That was, until his body drooped sideward, ever so slightly leaning into the man’s shoulder. Loki didn’t flinch or retaliate but instead continued to hum as if oblivious.

Peter broke into a small yawn, subconsciously falling heavier into the man’s arm, hair tickling his neck. Not in a million years did Peter think he’d be falling asleep on the shoulder of some villainous figure hated by the Avengers, but here he was; carelessly falling slack onto his shoulder, the gentle actions of a killer drifting him into unconsciousness. He was safe. He was going to be safe. 

Loki glanced down at the boy, who was comfortably folded into his arm, completely unfazed. Peter was either insanely brave or stupid, but his trust in Loki was definite. The God wouldn’t _dare_ exploit that trust, either. Because believe it or not, he cared for Peter a hell of a lot more than he did for the rest of the team. He’d protect the small human with every inch of his life if he had to.

Suddenly, Tony strutted into the room, sending Loki conflicted whether to shrug Peter off or pretend he was unaware of the kid’s presence. But Tony was wordlessly beaming at the sight: Peter, his kid, asleep on the man who could’ve overthrown Earth.

The same man, who came to the conclusion he was _not_ going to wake that kid, not for the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, slowly getting closer to the end. Oof. Hopefully I'll be able to update the next one soon, but considering school giving me MORE stress and work, It'll probably be a lil' longer, so sorry for that guys! I'll try my best, I promise! If you have any ideas or thoughts for the next chapter, leave 'em down below! Thank you so much, everyone! Oh, and a happy new year! whoo! <3


	5. Almost There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Like most misery, it started with apparent happiness." - The Book Thief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, I'm so sorry for leaving you guys in the dark for so long. I had writers' block for absolute ages, and I've re-written this chapter a billion times. It's also longer than the rest of my chapters, woah! I hope it's alright, and please drop a comment! Your thoughts mean the world to me. <3

Almost There.

The ship that Tony had designed to enter space was, _well_ , unbelievably different. Peter had pictured something almost comically similar to the 1969 ship, except more- _Tony_. But he apparently underestimated him, because this ‘ship’ was alien to him, nothing like he imagined, or like the ones from the films he grew up with, though most definitely _Tony-Stark-ish._

“Right kiddo, it’s time.’” Tony began, teeth clenching at the sight of Peter holding May, super-human strength almost breaking the women in half, though she didn’t seem to mind. And something told Tony that a broken rib was worth every minute of their hug, in fear for it the last.  

Both Tony and Steve watched with hard eyes, wanting to pry their eyes away but couldn’t – it felt too personal, private; like they shouldn’t be watching. But the realisations of how damn _young_ Peter really was, was like a truth only now registering. _Sixteen years, Rogers,_ Tony was about to say, though the words hung in his mouth uselessly. It made no difference.

The kid’s grip was loosened, falling slack; like an aching, defeated fist being pulled – unable to give a final blow. He knew it was time.

Peter growled at the concept: _Time_ , never enough of it, and always continuing no matter how hard you curse its ability to change, to continue like nothing differed.  And now his own was up with May.

After a few seconds, Cap placed a firm hand onto the kid’s shoulder, with the famous _‘it’s okay, son,’_ smile he always managed to summon. Steve was always good in such difficult situations, no wonder he was chosen as a high school mascot: he was like the supportive slap on the back that dads seem to produce, except for the entirety of America - Or at least before he was claimed as a fugitive by the Government – but that doesn’t matter now. Right now, he was comforting his teammate.

Peter’s trembling hands released May at the contact, his masked eyes staring widely up at the man beside him, who nodded gently in encouragement.

Steve could’ve sworn he heard a muffled hiccup behind the red material – and his hardened expression fell.

Peter didn’t deserve this.

The kid had been trying to hold himself together all morning, and finally broke on the way to the compound; at the sight of the huddled children of New York holding banners of badly drawn Spider-men, and crayon words of hope.

‘ _Thank you, Spider-man!’ ‘You can do it, Spidey!’ ‘We got you, Spider-man!’_

Peter watched silently in the car at the children cheering him, _supporting_ him. The kids were unaware of Peter’s age being only a few years older, the unknown fact curdling to the parents of New York. Sickening to Tony and May.

And yet he was still just a young, glassy eyed boy in the back seat with some spider powers and a mask– Not a God with a hammer, or a sorcerer, not even an expert fighter. He was just a kid hoping it would all be over with before the new Star Wars movie came to cinema, or before May finally quit the job she’d hated for years, to grow up in a world where scary shit only happened in the movies.

But that world wasn’t now. And Peter was a masked idiot; his blood was made for catastrophe.

 

When May finally broke away, wishing to see Peter’s messy, unkempt hair under the mask, she knew deep down, almost like an instinct, that this wasn’t going to end well. She hid the thought, and continued to picture her stupid, selfless Peter under all that red, _Just like Ben,_ she thought. She was thinking about the way he gave a chortled laugh with his eyes screwed shut, just like him, and the little wave he always offered May before hopping out to go somewhere, and nothing more.

 “’Love you, May,” Peter whispered, his spandex arms wrapping around the women once more, catching her off guard. His warm breath tickled the back of her neck with a broken chirpy tone; like he was simply leaving for school, or visiting Ned’s. Like this was no different.

May hushed the boy knowingly, appreciating his flimsy attempt of making no big deal out of the situation, as if her baby boy that she read bed time stories to, about _astronauts_ and _aliens in underpants_ wasn’t about to battle a purple oaf in space. _God_ , this seemed as fictional to her as the stories, the ache of refusal still prominent and throbbing. Peter was _not_ leaving her.

 “Love you too, tough guy.”

                                                    

Peter watched ahead, beginning to enter the ship that would confirm their fate _._ He glanced at the dusty blue sky of New York, felt the way winter’s hands nipped at his skin, taking in every possible feeling of Earth. His focus then shifted to Loki who was watching in the shadows, refusing to be seen by the public. Not after the New York incident. _Smart move, trickster._

 “It’s nice,” The boy muttered to the God, eyes distant.

_“Hm?”_

Peter outstretched an arm, catching the tiny droplets of white. “It’s beginning to snow,”

The man squinted at Peter, not quite sure where he was going with the statement, nonetheless humming in agreement. He caught sight of waving humans, drenched in hats and coats, still watching their heroes with triumphant grins, their species once again, puzzling him. _Humans are strange,_ Loki thought to himself. _They’re waiting for nothing_ , pure nothing in the cold, harsh weather. Their minds hopeful and scared like the rest of them, yet still stood in their ugg boots and bobble hats - even with the possibility of Earth’s end.

He glanced back to Peter, the boy with the ability to see the world in a different light; to see _him_ in a different light. And he shook his head.

_Humans are strange._

Now looking back, Loki nearly did it _. Overthrowing earth, that is._ He could’ve done it, if he put up the extra fight. Now Thanos was about to break him like glass, but it was worth it. And not delivering Thanos’ orders was like a bittersweet _middle finger_ to the Titan, and belonging somewhere – _with someone,_ being a part of a family, was worth every thump to the stomach, head and mind.

He’d soon come to realise that.

 _“_ They’re gonna have a white Christmas, Loki _,”_ Peter chuckled, the world around them watching, or at least watching Peter – their eyes oblivious to the God’s skittish frame.

Before Loki could respond though, Tony’s firm hand collapsed on the boy’s shoulder with a trained smile. “As soon as this is done and dusted, we can go straight back to visiting those shitty café’s you love on Tuesday’s, and movie marathons on the Friday, eh?”  The man laughed, harsh and forced, while drawing him closer to his side. With one last reaching wave to May, the man steered him into the ship, plonking him onto the- _second floor couch from the compound_. Peter’s lips twitched at that – it was strung to the floor by metal, comically out of place.

 “I’d like that,” Peter finally said, sinking into his mentor’s warm arms. His voice was soft, trying to convince himself that this was simply a trip abroad, just like he tried to convince May, except _seriously_ abroad, but the taste of reality chewed at his tongue.  The words slipped out. “I’d really, _really_ like that, Tony.”

The billionaire blinked, hearing Peter’s timid voice crack at the use of his name – the change was equivalent of a thump to the stomach, like the moment when a child holds onto a parent’s hand for the last time in public. They both understood.

“Me too, kiddo.”

 

 

The journey lasted days – and Peter wasn’t entirely mad about that, it gave him more time to prepare himself. But with more preparation, came more over-thinking, he wished that his mind wasn’t so imaginative when it came to war. Peter also came to the conclusion that there was only so much Nintendo Switch you can play at early hours in the morning, and beating Clint four times in a row wasn’t quite as satisfying anymore, he needed to do something, something productive.

His first idea was to turn to Loki; he was always busy doing something.

“Hey, Loki?” Peter casually hung above the man, catching glimpse of a foreign language scribbled in a tattered book.

Loki glanced up to meet the boy’s curious eyes, mumbling under his breath about privacy. “What is it, Peter?” He replied, his tone (as usual, when met with the boy), accompanied by a sigh.

“I brought some books, some really good ones that aren’t about space, or aliens – heh, ‘thought they were a little _too_ close to home, if you get me,” Peter choked a wobbly laugh, “Wrong phrase there, but- _anyway_ , this one’s called The Book Thief,” He began, now plopping himself beside the God.

Loki nodded, disinterested, “Sounds _riveting_.” He was busy reading an Asgardian book that he somehow managed to scrape last minute before it all went to shit, and Peter was interrupting. As usual.

It was the only tie he had left to his mother, after all, his past home, despite his childhood being wasted away in the shadows.  Reluctantly, he missed it.

However, Peter continued to talk, like he always did, hardly discouraged by Loki’s lack of enthusiasm.  Truthfully, he was unfazed and desperate to talk about _anything_ other than their chances of survival. With a cross of his legs, he began to describe the book, (Even though his words mainly landed on deaf ears).

“So, basically, it’s based in 1939 Germany, and about a girl called Liesel, and a foster family who-”

“-Who has nothing to do with Asgardian sorcery. Go annoy another poor soul, Spider.” The God dryly replied, turning the page of his book. Peter hated when he did that, when Loki always shut him down quicker than a slap to the face. Actually, it might as well have been a slap in the face, because Peter was sat there, staring daggers at the God – his big, brown bambi eyes firm and unmoving.

He almost looked intimidating, if not for the fluffy socks on top of his suite, and posture like a toddler debating whether to have a tantrum. His quietness was equivalent to a loud ‘ _fuck you’_ , though,  since he always managed to babble nonsense, _awkward_ nonsense, _excited_ nonsense, but always _some_ form of nonsense.

As Loki soon caught the sense of the kid’s changed attitude, he smirked; it was always amusing to see the teenager’s cheeks burst with red. “Oh, _do_ share your thoughts, Peter, I’m dying to hear the lovely language you want to spout,” The God’s nonchalant words only stung Peter’s restrained anger all the more, and Loki couldn’t help but notice the way the boy’s risen shoulders sagged instead, his dangerous eyes now defeated.

_Oh, well done. You’ve officially pissed off every being belonging to Earth. What an accomplishment._

The man’s focus then flickered to the kid now, who had somehow retrieved the book from his bag and held it with white knuckles. Surprisingly, he didn’t rip it up, given the strength he was capable of. Peter was certainly anything but weak, yet never bit back as harsh as expected, or even _barked_ for that matter. Bruce may need a lesson or two – _hell_ , how about the entire team?

 _Asshole_ , Peter thought, holding the book close to his chest. _Damn you, Loki. I try and be nice_ , He continued to mentally grumble, awaiting Loki’s full attention.

After what seemed an eternity of glaring, Loki’s eyes slowly met Peter’s.

The Spider cleared his throat awkwardly, and began again. His voice was a small mumble at first, a little less passionate.  “It’s about a girl, who lives in 1939 Germany, and it’s narrated by death,” Peter pursed his lips, inspecting the book awkwardly under the God’s gaze. Loki said nothing.

“Death…Death isn’t horrible, either. He’s not scary, or intimidating, he’s just _there_. Kinda Like a watchful eye, and it’s – it’s in a way comforting, y’know?” He frowned, the cogs in his mind turning. “I’m..I’m not scared, Loki, and I wish everyone would stop _tiptoeing_ around me, like a damn china pot.” Peter frowned, “I get it, and I’m young, small and stupid. But I’m not-” Peter was abruptly stopped by the sense of the ship’s balance stumbling sideward – the boy’s breath hitched as his instinct kicked in, almost acting on the impulse to flinch away.

Peter’s hands, however, acted as a seatbelt around Loki, stabling him in place, while the ship staggered and coughed, his eyes screwed shut at the impact. Surprisingly enough to him, he didn’t flounce to the wall or ceiling like the tingling urge advised.

_Shitshitshitshitshit._

The side of the ship dropped again with twice as much force, as Peter desperately clung onto the sofa, mentally praying that he wouldn’t spend his last moments foolishly ignorant of death.

He lied. He lied _so_ bad. He was petrified.

The Avengers were already yanking at their guns, dignity and determination. Whereas Peter, he was already mentally raising his white flag – yet a part of him pushed, the adrenaline sparking at his system, feeling as though his heart was about to thump its way out of his body. Maybe that’d be helpful, at least a part of him is moving, unlike his legs.

_You need to do something, asshole!_

 “They’re shooting at us,” Tony hissed, “They found us – FRIDAY, Tell the others,”

Friday began alerting the Guardians ship, initiating a landing on the nearest planet.

 Peter’s clammy hands released the sofa and Loki, apparently to FRIDAY, they were estimated to land, (as long as they didn’t get obliterated in the process), in ten minutes.

“Loki- we’re gonna die,” Peter blurted out, catching his gaze like a deer caught in headlights.

“Don’t be stupid, Peter, you’ll be fine. It’s merely turbulence,” The man said through gritted teeth, already aware of the likelihood of surviving the trip was increasingly slim.

“ _Oh my god_ \- we’re gonna die,” Peter continued to chant to himself, hands clumsily reaching for his mask. “We’re- _oh jesus_ , we’re gonna end up crashing, explosions- I’m gonna get shot, I’ll end up dying with little dignity and ‘vines that keep me from ending it all’ stuck in my head, oh my god Loki-”

The man breathed a jerky sentence, ignoring the bead of sweat forming. “I thought you said you weren’t afraid?”

“My spidey senses are tingling- _Oh jeez. Oh jeez._ _I’m gonna throw up_ -”

Natasha rolled her eyes, her immaculate hair swaying towards Peter. “If you puke, kid, you’ll be cleaning it up, because we’re not dying with the stench of beef casserole.” She exhaled, amused. But her smile was temporary, because the ship was leaning on its side again, like a falling soldier with a hell of a lot of determination.

Disregarding the very apparent sense of sea-sickness, Peter screwed his eyes shut. “R-Right. Sorry, Miss Romanoff. Yeah, that wouldn’t…that wouldn’t be pleasant, heh.” He quietly reminded himself to do _anything_ but puke. You can embarrass yourself once, from alcohol poisoning, not again when Thanos’ army is about to break your neck. _But he was seriously gonna-_

Loki’s cold hand quickly reached for Peter’s temple, and with a nod, his body was temporarily shut down into a sleep state, as he lay slack in the chair – arms dangling at the sides.

The avengers’ eyes shot from Peter to Loki, grateful for the silence for a moment, despite their lack of thanks. Meanwhile, all that remained was the thickening tension between them – the waiting – the silence – and more waiting. It was like being watched by a circling vulture, anticipating its claws.

The Chitauri closely beckoned behind, and Tony’s puny ship in comparison waddled it’s away across the atmosphere, begging to find land.

 _Not too long, now. Not too long. Nearly there,_ Tony reassured himself _, just a little further. Almost there._

“Wake the kid up,” Bruce’s timid voice interrupted the man’s thoughts, “We’re landing.”

 

_In the duration of the journey, Thor was abnormally quite – along with most of the team, except Peter, who seemed to always find himself chatting away his discomfort._

_Thor’s clouded mind was focussed upon Loki, however. His little brother –pleading to Odin that the little family he had left wasn’t a death penalty waiting to happen. Thor knew he was involved with Thanos at some point – he just hoped that Loki wouldn’t betray him again, like every other time. It hurt, believe it or not. Not just the recurring stab wounds, not the bereavement of another fake death, but the death of potential. Loki was his little brother, blood or not, – he was better than that. Better than him._

_But when Thor laid eyes upon Peter, the boy who seemed to oddly refine his brother, the flicker of something – not quite faith, but trust, that the small Spider had become a little spark of conflict in his actions shifted his views._

_Hopefully, Peter was enough._

_And he was. He really was._

 

Loki placed a hand to Peter’s head, not quite wanting to wake him yet. He seemed at ease in the old leather sofa, face for once calm and content.

With a warm welcome back into the world- or well, _space_ , Peter’s eyes scanned his surroundings, expression scrunched as if solving a puzzle.

“Did-…Did you knock me out?” Peter grumbled with a lopsided smile at the God, whose raised brows greeted in return.

“What, did you sleep well?” Loki muttered, noticing the boy’s eyes flash with reminiscence – brain travelling back into his short dream.

It was as if his consciousness melted at first, lolling him into darkness, until he saw Earth, safe, with Tony slugging an arm around him, and May’s gorgeous smile planted on her cheeks. Ned and MJ stood waving, _beaming_ at him. And it was snowing, the soft painted sky hung above him, without an ounce of stars or meteorites.

Peter was home.

The kid’s smile widened, grasping onto that dream with both hands – while his mouth opened to answer the God, to ask if he managed to use magic to bring him such dreams, since his nights often drowned him with nightmares, anxiety and…

His eyes widened again, the prickling at his skin harsher this time. _The ship was about to fall_.

Peter yelped to Tony, mind half dazed, and a split second too late. Though Tony was already engaging for battle _, did they forget to tell him_?  Within seconds, the aircraft collided with a dusty planet floor, bouncing and scraping to a messy stop as the Avenger’s stabled their feet, confidence and fear consuming the air. They stood like an image of collectors’ figures – poised and fearless. And that’s when Peter realised.

He wasn’t prepared. He _seriously_ wasn’t prepared for this.

“I-I’m not ready!” He whispered frantically to himself, clumsily forcing the mask on his head.  With a hesitant step towards Tony, the jittery mess was unable to be contained. “Mister-…Tony, I-I _can’t-”_

His mentor’s prominent veins that seemed tattooed to his forehead tensed, his voice as stable as the ship during land. “It’s okay, Pete, it’ll be like a flu jab, unpleasant at first, the anticipation always worse, and then it’s over with,” The man pulled the kid into a brisk hug, muttering reminders of when they’d return.

_Just like fighting that eagle man, just a lil’ bigger. No big deal, just stay low. Do what we say, keep to the plan. If someone’s down, we’ll handle it. Keep away, Spider-ling, you hear me?_

With one last comforting smile, Tony opened the doors. “We’ll protect you, Pete, I promise.”

The Spider’s arms itched at the statement, but the earnestness in Tony’s words was sure. He had to believe him.

_It’ll be okay, Pete. You’ll be okay._

                                                      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> miss kiesha? miss keisha? oh my fuckin' god she fuckin' dead. 
> 
> anyway my loves, thank you so much for reading so far! I really appreciate it. <3 
> 
> And all your comments and kudos, and bookmarks and subs, duuude, you all melt my heart. seriously. 
> 
> until the next one,


	6. Snow that Burns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it, my fellow readers.
> 
> WARNING: death. death is ahead. be careful if you’re sensitive to such. also there are mentionings of blood and sickness. a bit angsty to say the least !
> 
> & references to previous chapters !

I hope you know,

After all this time, Peter was about to fall. Not quite the simple horror-movie-slip-and-cry-out.

Not quite that, and not the love kind, either. He wasn’t about to find that desperate love that teenagers always seem to have in the movies, the kind where you could just leave the city without a care in the world. None of that.

However, he did have _one_ presence beside him. a cold, nerving hand cradling his skull, humming a familiar tune into his ears, like the time he was struck with insomnia, his damaged hearing simply lulling him with an ongoing whistle, like he was tuning…tuning…out…

Snap. A hand was now a firework in his face – fingers clicking him awake. “Not yet, idiot,” the voice lowly muttered, and a paw ruffled his messy, sweat-induced hair. 

With a dazed expression, the boy reached out – and his hands met a fluffy face. A noise distinctively close to a chuckle escaped him, both sweet and cracked.

“Ro-…Rocket?” 

The raccoon smiled down at the boy, allowing the strange hand to ruffle his cheek. Given a normal circumstance, anyone’s hand would be unattached and sinking in blood by now. But Peter knew no harm, and given the little comfort the guardian could suppress, he was more than glad to have Peter at least a little happy.

“Yeah, yeah, kid.” Rocket forced a toothed smile, glancing back to Groot who was watching Peter with wide eyes, concerned and unmoving.

“I am Groot?” The tree stiffly asked, in which Rocket nodded softly in return.

“He’s a tough kid,” He muttered, voice deep with gravel. “I have no idea how he survived.”

 

 

The pair had found Peter unconscious within the rubble; mask off, and pale bruised skin contrasting the burning sky, where spots of floating pepper rested gently upon his face. The planet was hot and tensed, like the final minutes of a boxing match – except the audience wasn’t screaming to their feet – rather they seemed to disappear altogether.

And all that was left was Peter Parker, hidden in sleep, with curly hair embedding the ground. He looked almost peaceful among the Earth, young features at rest, all contortion now gone.

Meanwhile, a raccoon and a tree hesitated closer for better inspection.

After a soft ear rested on the boy’s chest, it was clear he was breathing – though his heartbeat merely a faint shudder in a ribcage. But by _god_ , he was breathing. A little flutter of fight was still there, still clinging on.

Before the awakening of sleeping beauty, Peter somehow managed to find himself in the arms of the devil, _Thanos_ , and accomplished distracting the black order long enough to give Loki a few extra seconds, though merely a pause of recognition. A quick thumbs up to the man; oblivious that it would become that of a goodbye. A bittersweet Peter Parker thing – a smile beneath a mask and an aim to protect, a silly heroic tendency. Loki shook his head.

The God stood there, mouth agape, and watched as the little Spider ebbed his way closer to doom; Proxima Midnight. She stumbled under his kick, but recovered just as swiftly. It made no difference, as fighting was futile in that particular situation, not that it mattered. Peter Parker was not the kind to take into consideration the safest option. An attempt was all that mattered.

Just as the small human quipped a short _Yes_!, The enemy brushed it off, all the while as the rest grappled Loki tighter. Not that they needed to, his senses were struck, and his tricks tamed; like a cornered animal. His legs buckled. He would’ve growled at himself if he had the strength, the words like a tickle at the back of his throat. _Pathetic_.

He felt it before it happened, as if the norns had snipped his last thread of fate, because just as the undeniable taste of copper wretched his mouth, he saw Peter hanging there like a puppet, abandoned by its strings. But nothing tasted quite as repulsive to him as catching the eyes of the boy, who clung to every breath, every aspect of life that he could. And seeing the fight drain from him like a leaking wound; _limp_ , seemed like punishment.

A fair punishment in the eyes of the taken souls, dead by the Asgardian’s hands. He hoped Peter wouldn’t be among them. The guilt was a slap to the face, something that Loki usually quieted in the back of his mind. But now they, deceased beings by his own motives were now circling him, like predators taunting prey. They hung above him, with excited laughs of children: watching.

Was this pure karma? He could see them now, _waiting_. Anticipating the fall of the God of mischief, relishing in his defeat. It sickened him. He couldn’t die. He _can’t_. But somewhere between the crowds, his Mother; Frigga with her ever warm eyes gazed into him, almost _proudly_. She was a matchstick in the dark, the little source of light he could hold onto. He remembered the story of the little matchstick girl, which Peter had mentioned once and swallowed. The similarity was haunting.

Yet her eyes never faltered, still calm and bright with pride. A scoff reached his throat at the thought – his mother, proud, after all of this? _What idiocy._

But his lips hung there, caught amidst his mother’s company. He was no longer trapped by the Black Order – he was trapped by her.

The god endured the throbbing, statue-like now; an abandoned toy - thrown to the floor. After all, there was nothing he could do but stay there, shrug off the need to snap curses at the pain. Satisfaction was not something he would allow the killers, so the usual man of wit and snark bit his tongue. _Save the little dignity you have._

He found himself wordlessly watching instead now _,_ through tainted vision, _of course._ His pride was far too large to do anything else. He wasn’t about to struggle or cry. _That’s what children do_ , Odin had bitterly told him.

 But Odin wasn’t there; it was his Frigga – his mother that held his hand through her presence. And she welcomed him.

_“Are you scared?” Peter had timidly asked._

The God of lies found some truth that day, and found some now.

With a tremor, he manages the acutest confession, that a plea of a child. He hated how it rung in his own ears, words sounding false as he said them. He was a God, _Loki of Asgard_. He did not whimper. He certainly did _not-_

_‘I’m scared, mother,’_

All movement ceased. The little drops of blood and distant noise hung on his words. They hushed the souls, snapping the world into obedience. The man held his breath.

Something flashed beneath the women’s expression; content now replaced with broken eyes, frozen and wet.   _It is alright, my son,_ she wants to say. To stroke his head, to hold him like the boy she loved so _damn_ much.

Loki refused to admit it that day in Asgard’s cell, but Frigga always was his mother.

His body was almost impatient with the slow burning of death now, it seemed to twiddle it’s thumbs. _Get_ _on with it_ , he winced.  But he never expected it to be kind, nor numb or quick; but he could no longer suffer the gaze of his mother. She was unbearably soft, an image unfitting on the planet’s harshness. He had to focus on something else. Peter; it earned a gulp from the man, and a smile from the women. Loki cared for the boy, and that was a lie the God of Mischief could not achieve. You could see it in his eyes. _Hope._

Peter, who still managed to struggle; his determination seeping through the Titan’s fingers like candle wax to a flame, was burning out _. Come on Peter, just a little longer._

A little longer was a wish that his body couldn’t grant, Loki understood that. But he wanted to witness him live. For someone to save him, like he himself couldn’t. He never prayed to the Norns, He deemed it pitiful, wasted time _. Which was terribly ironic,_ as he found himself begging within the little moments he had.

_For god sake. You cannot be this cruel._

It wasn’t the crowd Loki saw in his remaining moments, nor his mother or the typical blast of white. It was a small, comforting voice, foggy but there. It was Peter, shyly offering his little ways of reassurance.

_“Death…Death isn’t horrible, either. He’s not scary, or intimidating, he’s just there.” The boy had told him, with such raw sureness in his tone, he had no reason to disregard it._

_Loki tried to believe Peter, he really did._

And his body fell cold – _no_ – warm, like an anesthetic crawling up his body, sizzling and soft. It was swallowing him bit by bit, while his brain hummed through thick syrup. Loki’s mind melted deeper into the floor. He could almost imagine it like Peter had explained, like the fictional book had told _. Just a man, holding you. Cradling your soul. Just like that._

Albeit the taste of copper remained, and his heartbeat thumped in his ears –it was hauntingly calm. It frightened him. Though he would rather spend his last breaths anything but afraid; He spent a lifetime enduring the emotion, it seemed tedious to experience it now in death.

He wanted to experience the strange normality he became accumulated with; stupid movie nights, the team’s slow but sure acceptance of him, and tackling insomnia with the person that accepted him like family. Dammit, Peter.

After all that time feeling like an outcast, the God found betterment in the home that in any sense should’ve loathed him. It was odd, to say the least.

His throat clenched – a whimper urging to break. Green eyes watered at the sting.

_He didn’t want to die._

His heart throbbed, _“Are you scared?”_

He could see Peter in the dimness of 4am; face a picture of timid curiosity.   _‘No,’_ he wanted to say. To shake his head, laugh in the face of it all.

Shadows crept at the edges of his eyes. He squinted against the warmth.

Little fallen embers float into his skin _,_

 _it’s beginning to snow_.

 The little twist of a smirk meets his mouth. From one planet to another, the sky was falling this Christmas.

_‘And neither must you be.’_

_~_

The selfless idiot, _more_ _commonly known as Peter Parker_ , was drifting in and out of consciousness, the memory of Thanos cursing his sight. _Please_ , he asked. Only once. Naively hoping that even the utmost merciless could offer a second of remorse. He was wrong.

 _Stupid child_ , Thanos had spat as his grip held around the kid’s throat – sniggering in amusement at the boy’s heaving gasps. Peter hung there, struggle now gone. No longer pleading, no longer writhing. And Tony, from afar, eye’s burst at the site.

Peter?

This time he did more than mouth the kid’s name.

“Peter!”

 And a suit of red body hit the floor.

A sickening crunch.

Tony flinched back, stomach toppled at the thought. _That’s my boy_. He took a step, not wanting to take any more. He staggered forward; the same words were stapled to him _. That’s my boy_ , he repeats, nausea curdling at the phrasing; he should be saying that at his award ceremonies, his _graduation_. Not now, when his big brown eyes were now screwed shut.

It was a sickeningly familiar – like when Rhodey crashed, while his heart seemed to join him. This time his heart didn’t quite trip, instead it withered in his chest. A drop of a feather, a fall of a spider. The man clenched his jaw. He had a promise to keep that boy safe –

 He said it was going to be okay.

_____________________________________________________________

 Peter, feeling the burning snowflakes sizzle his skin, could still hear the voice still loitering above his head, with the titan’s eyes peering down mockingly, and his throat tensed.

“Hey-Hey, kid, slow-”

His body coiled uselessly into himself, spilling the contents of beef casserole and red liquid, burning more than the falling ash, while Rocket grumbled in disgust – his usual harshness gone; there was no bite, no usual joke. Just an empty noise.

 Groot awkwardly stroked Peter’s back.  The boy managed to form a half smile to the creature, red dribble ignored. Groot, eyes a little more bright, offered a bigger grin in return.

“I am Groot,” He chirped, and Peter nodded shakily in reply, completely oblivious to the words the creature spoke. It needn’t matter, though. Peter was grateful nonetheless. He blinked at Rocket, who shifted his gaze – forcing Peter to do the same. His eyes met nearby rubble – nearby nothingness. _Where are the others? What happened?_

But the words couldn’t quite meet his mouth – and he sat there, speech fading into breath, _Where are they?_

Where is my family?

He stumbled to his feet, and Groot’s arms gently held him, swallowing him until the boy’s determination broke the grip.

“I am Groot,” The Giant cooed, arms outstretched to capture the boy once more. But Peter squirmed in his arms, breaking into a growl of desperation. Groot let go.

But Peter didn’t run nor walk; he simply stood there – eyes scanning for any form of life or familiarity. He stopped hazily, sniffled and paused, his body was numb.

A figure lay quietly in the fog, grey and red.

“Kid,” Rocket forced, hand extended to tug the boy back, but he ignored his weak attempt. The spider’s breath caught as his feet fell closer, limping to see.

A hand slapped his mouth, a violent contraction urging him to gag.

_No, no, no, no, no-_

“Loki,” Peter whispered, legs breaking into an unsteady sprint. His knees folded into the gravel, hands scraping urgently at the man’s arm. His lifeless face gazed into Peter, once the constant appearance of confidence and snark now gone –  this body was not Loki of Asgard. It was _not_.

Peter froze, wobbly thoughts caught in his throat. _Where are his green eyes?  Sharp and terrifying?_ But the words were untrue. And lying to a dead man, _no_ , a dead _friend_ , made his stomach lurch. Loki’s gaze wasn’t of what others might recall, not _entirely_ , his gaze was always the softest of green when met with the Spider, almost a split personality. And now the privilege to see that strange gentleness was gone, replaced with grey.

And how such a dull colour broke him.

The hero’s expression stroked his cheeks, and his fingers tugged clumsily at his chest. “Loki,” Peter whispered, shaking the Asgardian by the clothes, hoping to somehow snap him out of the daze. Of course, it was hopeless. It was just the disbelief aching the boy’s muscles, a rushed jerk of the hands.

“Come on, you- _you idiot,_ ” Peter chocked, cheeks burning wet. “Call me an imbecile, _god damn it,_ don’t you understand I need you?”

The world looked down at the boy, it’s humid breath grazing his hair, It was a sight of pity, really. A boy talking to a dead man, squeaking with hands intertwining with cold bitten fingers. He sat there, holding yet another loved one.

Not again. _Please_ , not again.

The wound still crimson and seeping, soaking into the boy’s clothes. It was disgustingly similar. And the cries were too, this time hurt and sharp, hissing at the fact it happened again. How had he allowed it to happen again?

‘People die, it is simply a fact of life,’ Vision had matter-of-a-factly reminded him at the compound, _but why so soon?_ Peter wanted to hiss, let his words be knife-like. Vicious.

Oh _god_ , the knife. _The Spear_. That’s what happened. He remembered now, he saw Loki held by the creature. Why didn’t he try harder? Kick harder, throw a few punches-

His head sunk, still watching that curdling lifeless face. _Maybe he’d twitch or move if he stayed still long enough._

Rocket and Groot stood a few paces back, dethatched from the scene. The kid was snapped at the heart, and they didn’t wish to intervene. Not yet.

 Slow but tender, Peter’s arms crumbled around the corpse. It lolled back, like a soulless body does. But Peter hushed him, despite his lack of words, closing his hurting eyes.

“ _My family will- they will…”_ He rasped, inhaled, continued. “They will look..look after you, Loki,” His voice was brittle, promising something his thoughts could only hold.

Shaking hands placed the man down, gentle. Very gentle.

“And it’ll-it’ll be okay, okay? You’re- you’re-“

A paw tenderly touched his shoulder, and Peter muffled a noise of understanding. His eyes left the corpse.

_You’re safe now._

Loki of Asgard; Burdened with glorious hope.

Whose prayers did not go unheard.

 

Peter, bruised and broken with every sense of the phrase, sat with wide eyes in the Guardian’s ship. There were merely a few of them, and strangely, Peter had somehow managed to own a seat on board. A damaged arm hung around his shoulders, warm and father-like.

Peter tor away from the sight of the galaxy that hung with stars, the ship still remained silent. He turned to the man beside him.

“I thought you were a goner, kid,” The un-armoured man clenched his jaw. “I saw you _\- I saw it_ -“

Peter shook his head slightly, slopping onto the man’s shoulder. “We did it, Tony,” He murmured, forcing back the splintering water in his eyes.

Tony rested his chin on his brown locks, holding him. Peter’s shoulders tensed as Thor’s eyes met his own.

“You are very strong, little Spider.”

Peter nodded with hesitance; Thor bowed his head, appearance strikingly fragile. “My brother – he was of strangeness, our Loki.” There was a pause, and Peter swallowed. “He- Loki cared very much for you, young Peter.”

Tony’s arms drowned the boy’s bubbling sniffs.

“I know.”

 

Peter knew.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for joining me on this wonderful journey of writing, I appreciate all the love you have given me in the process of finishing. This was indeed a difficult chapter for me to write, so I hope it's alright for you guys. 
> 
> I would very much like a vine reference here, but thanking y'all is much more important. So thank you, all my lovely readers. 
> 
> And this is it. The final end. 
> 
> (I will not abandon Peter, and dare I say it, Loki. And I am damn sure I won't abandon you guys!)  
> I appreciate all and any feedback! And this is not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own. Yikes.  
> -Hannah <3
> 
> EDIT: [an alternate ending maybe? soon?...]
> 
> I DID NOT GET NO SLEEP CAUSE OF Y'ALL, Y'ALL AIN'T GONNA SLEEP CAUSE OF-


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